


The Butterfly Effect

by Miss_Mil



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s03e15 Coda, F/M, Gen, Prequel, Temporal Paradox, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 01:58:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13494408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Mil/pseuds/Miss_Mil
Summary: What if a small difference changes everything? In a world where time never moves forward, Chakotay has to make the ultimate sacrifice to save her life.Prequel to S03Ep15 'Coda'.





	1. A Butterfly Flaps Its Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the JC Cutthroat Competition, Round 2 for Alpha Group. 
> 
> Prompt: A good old fashioned time loop. Bonus points if only one character remembers. 
> 
> I cannot thank Helen8462 enough for the help on this one; for being that nagging voice, excellent beta, keeper of all answers when it comes to temporal paradoxes, and for believing that I could do the story justice.

* * *

“Captain, move your ass!”

You’re almost sure in that moment, that if she could have, the Captain would have been dishing out all kinds of reprimands at your rather unprofessioanl remark. But, with enemy fire fast raining down upon you both, you’re certain she is going to let that one slide.

You stick your head out from behind the sparse trees which cover your backside, and spot the captain ducking behind a bulky rock outcrop. Her rifle is swung over behind her back and she’s fumbling with a phaser in her petit hand. She looks so out of place.

But, you know why you are both here.

She looks at you, breathing heavily from the run and the adrenaline. She backs up, the phaser out in front as her eyes scan the tree line not far from your position. With agonising slowness, she is finally close enough for you to reach out and grab the thick material of her jacket. You haul her close, tucking her in front of you and behind the tree.

You risk another glance out from behind your shelter.

_Where are they?_

You can’t see the aliens from here.

Only a former member of your crew that you thought long-dead.

Funny, Cavit looks eerily different to the picture you once looked up on the Starfleet database. You’ve never met him, but you never liked the sound of the man, and you certainly don’t like him now. He’s hovering, guarding the entrance to an alien device that you’re sure is causing this entire phenomenon.

_If only you can reach it…_

“Fuck,” you mutter. The Captain glances back at you from over her shoulder but you ignore her questioning glance. You’re too wired; too hung up on the rush and the too-little sleep you’ve been getting since this whole thing started days – or was it weeks - ago. Polite language is the last of your concerns right now.

“What now?”

You know that she doesn’t have to ask your opinion. She outranks you by a fair few years’ worth of command experience and a significant pip, and you know that you would still blindly follow her to the ends of the galaxy if she asks.

Nodding and swallowing roughly, you nod in her direction.

“We need to get to that device.”

Her shoulders tense, and she holsters the phaser again. The rifle is swung around, and she switches the setting to maximum capability.

“Tell me what to do.”

* * *

“You know, when I said I wanted to have a bit of shore leave, this is not what I had in mind.”

You supress a laugh. Even in your grim situation, she makes you smile. “No?”

She flashes you a brilliant grin, perfect teeth shining in the dim light. “I was thinking somewhere with considerably more sand, a nice ocean…”

You forget sometimes, in the mundaneness of your day-to-day job, that the Captain has a wicked sense of humour. It’s sometimes so dry and sarcastic that you can just picture her being the errant teen sneaking out of her parent’s house that she once alluded to.

A flash of something forbidden enters your mind, and even in the grim situation, you envisage her with a tiny bikini and the taste of salt on her flawless skin.

“Maybe,” you concede in a whisper, “but, I bet the company is infinitely better right now.”

You look down at her, where she is huddled close to the earth, just in time to see her roll her eyes. It makes you laugh out loud and your heart plummets with the very thought that in that moment, the enemy – some of whom were once your colleagues - might just hear.

You’ve spotted Stadi and the former Chief Medical Officer in the last glance.

“Maybe… _but…_ ” she stresses the word. “At least I’d be relaxing as opposed to lying on the ground with a phaser digging in somewhere unpleasant being chased by some equally unpleasant people!”

That, you have to agree with. The phaser has been digging uncomfortably into your hip for the better part of the last hour.

“Can you see the device?”

“I’m looking at the ground, Commander.”

“Yes, but – “

She growls. “I can’t see a damn thing.”

“I was afraid you’d say that. We’ll have to get closer.”

* * *

She is exhausted, after running her ass off earlier. She isn’t used to the physical exertion, and fortunately, boxing has left you in better shape.

The lighting is a little better as you get closer to the device. You can see now that there are a few armed former crew members guarding it, but mostly they are distracted and if you had to guess, a little disorientated. Coming back from the dead is said to have that effect.

Agonisingly, you still haven’t figured out why deceased members of _Voyager’s_ crew appear with each passing loop. The downside is that the longer it takes for you to get to the device, the more former Maquis and Starfleet crew you’re going to have to deal with.

“Fuck,” you mutter again for the second time in the past hour. You’re running out of time.

The Captain turns, intent on reprimanding you for this one, only you hear it first and your hand clamps down over her mouth.

Her eyes open wildly, instantly panicked. Her hand reaches up to encircle your wrist, trying without much success to pull it away from her mouth. You move your face closer to hers, meeting her eyes and raising a finger to your lips. She needs to be quiet.

She marginally relaxes and your hand falls from her mouth.

Her head snaps up and that’s when you hear it; the faint snap of a twig with the distinct sound of footsteps, and the whisper of hushed voices as the patrol comes nearer. It also means that the device is mostly unguarded. 

You have to move _now_ or you’re going to have to start again. And if you start over, there will be more to watch out for. Somehow, each time the loop resets, more of _Voyager’s_ former crew appear. It’s like they’re coming back from the dead, and they’re hunting for you both.

The element of surprise is in your favour. Whatever _they_ are, they don’t know that you are trapped by their device, or that you know what it does. They aren’t taking the precaution of being quiet, and there are now three distinct voices.

Leaning in close, you whisper to her. “When I move, run to the device. We only have one shot here.”

“No way,” she hisses instantly. “We are not separating, Chakotay.”

You cut her words off with your mouth, slanting it down over hers, hard and fast. Her hair is gripped tightly in one hand, anchoring her body to your own. She resists at first, trying to pull back but you hold tight and a split second later she is gripping your uniform with both hands.

A breath, a moment’s pause, and you pull back leaving her gasping as you move to engage the enemy.

“Run, Kathryn.”

* * *

You run as fast as you can, willing your legs to propel you forward and into the enemy camp and straight toward the device, taking out as many as you can. You don’t even hesitate – you can’t – as you aim your phaser right at Lyndsay Ballard. The Captain is a little bit behind and to your left.

You don’t hear her shout, it comes a second too late as the force of enemy fire slams into you, propelling you forward and head-first into the dirt.

Weapons fire continues above but you struggle to move. Breathing is difficult, your muscles are weakening from fatigue and now injury. Rolling over, your back hits the ground as you move finally, eyes opening just in time to see orange phaser fire explode into Cavit as he is running toward you, weapons ready.

You supress the urge to smirk triumphantly. You _really_ don’t like the guy.

The Captain is stumbling toward you, the weight of her rifle and her exhaustion slowing her down. She drops to her knees beside you, hands reaching out to help you sit up. The sleeves of the red and black uniform are torn, cuts and scrapes visible underneath.

But, she’s not looking at that. Her hands are tearing at the uniform jacket, ripping it further and off your shoulders before you realise that the foreign weapon has grazed your side and there is a fair amount of blood. She wipes at it with the jacket and fortunately the wound is small.

Her head falls forward, briefly resting against your shoulder.

“Move your ass, Commander,” she hisses, her lips right against your ear. “So I can put you in the brig for disobeying an order from your captain.”

Just then, rapid fire breaks out again and you can hear more of your former crew coming at you from all sides. The device hovers just out of reach, still active and shimmering. The odds are against you both now.

The captain draws her weapon once more, swinging the rifle around and climbing up on one knee. You fumble for your own phaser. The monitor you’re carrying suddenly lets out a shrill alarm. Sixty seconds and the loop is going to reset.

She looks back, just for a second, and her eyes are suddenly hard. “In case I never get a chance to pay you back.”

The rifle is dropped, and she grabs at your shirt - with the same forceful grip you once had on her – and captures your lips hungrily against your own. The kiss is bruising, frenzied and a tangle of teeth and tongues.

She pulls back, reaching down to pick up the discarded rifle as you reach for a phaser. 

A bright flash tells you that you’re too late.

You’ve run out of time.

Time to start over.

* * *

 


	2. Connect the Dots

* * *

As soon as you materialise on the planet, the Captain looks at you awaiting your instructions. This is your domain, and she’s the one stepping into it. It’s rare for you to both be planet-side at the same time, but the urgency of the situation requires a breach in protocol. The reports of the deceased crew appearing with each reset is increasing.

Seventeen and counting…

But it’s not only the panic you feel at the appearance of dead crew members. You have to keep her safe, and you know she won’t protect herself. You’re quite happy to take charge now, and you like the way she is looking at you with clear blue eyes, waiting for you to utter a single word and she’ll leap into action.

The ease with which you shout out orders is a surprise, but it shouldn’t be. You’ve been in command before, and you’ve fought your fair share of battles. You’ve spent many hours laying low on foreign worlds, hiding behind sparse trees and rocky outcrops that always felt too small.

Only, you didn’t have _her_. And that is always going to be an unknown complication.

An unpredictable, stubborn and head-strong complication.

That’s how you find yourself crouching behind another boulder with her, using ancient military hand signals to coordinate your attack to members of your former Maquis cell. The tenth run at the device has to be better than the first despite the odds stacking ever higher against you.

You know where they are now, and where the humanoid guards are likely to be. The crew listened to you earlier, at first disbelieving but now starting to realise what’s happening. Each time the loop resets, it gets easier to convince them.

You’ve learned ways to impart the urgency of the situation, and the small keywords that mean something personal that stops _Voyager’s_ senior staff in their tracks.

Everything you’ve predicted so far has been correct, right down to the moment Tom Paris trips over that invisible spot in the hall outside section nine-C-Alpha. And that’s how you know that the approach you’ve been taking for the last four – or is it five – attempts is not going to work this time.

You’ve accounted for every variable, and every variation in which you might find yourself upon each reset. The only thing you don’t know is which former crew members are going to appear and where. It’s eerie to see them again, and haunting when they fail to recognise you with blank expressions on their faces. 

But, this doesn’t stop the captain from trying to save them as well.

There hasn’t been time to figure out _who_ or _what_ they are in the previous loops. You only know that the device they are guarding is what’s causing time to reset. You don’t even know why you’re here, or why you’re the only one to remember.

There is never have enough time. Not before one of you almost dies or the loop resets.

You’re damn sure that it won’t be the captain dying. Even if it means it’s you every time. You’re not sure what’s worse – dying, or seeing the devastated expression ghosting across her normally stoic features just before the blinding flash sends you right back to the briefing room where the captain finishes a question. You never get to answer, and it’s frustrating because you weren’t actually listening the first time when she asked you.  

Moving your hands, the signals tell your crew to start creeping along the tree line. You’re taking the left side, the crew fanning out to the right with phasers up. All things going well, you’ve got about thirty minutes before the loop restarts. Two-hour loops are really not enough time.

You’re moving, quietly. Brute force, guns blazing hasn’t worked before. One second, two seconds, three seconds and you’re thinking about the next move when you hear a loud snap, like wood breaking and the captain is suddenly gone.

An echo of your name floats in the silent air.

* * *

The mission has ended before it’s even begun this time. You’re nowhere near the humanoid guards, or the former members of _Voyager_ and a quick glance around tells you that you have barely made it a few metres from the tree line with the device far ahead.

You move to where she vanished, crouching low and suddenly trying to get everyone else’s attention. But you don’t need to – the captain disappearing into the ground was enough to alert the entire squadron.

Peeling the leafy mass aside, heavy bits of timber underneath that make you groan as you try to move them quietly. You move to point a thin strip of light from the phaser down into the hole, hissing through clenched teeth.

“Captain?”

It looks like a trap, probably built by the Humanoids that are guarding the place. Briefly, you wonder how many more of them there are, and your hand flicks under your throat in a cutting motion, telling the rest of the squad to fall back to the treeline. Paris gives you a second glance, but nods and scatters away.

They have to continue on, and they know that time is running out.

You don’t even want to imagine what lays at the bottom, and the fact she hasn’t yet answered makes you heart hammer a little harder. The dull light filters down into the hole. You can’t really see anything; it’s a dark abyss that’s swallowed her whole.

“Kathryn!” you hiss again. “Can you hear me?”

* * *

The dull light from the torch glints off her combadge that had been attached to her chest. Starfleet really need to improve the brightness of these damn things. Definitely something to discuss with them when – _if_ – you make it home.

The longer she is unresponsive, the more your mind begins to conjure up all sorts of terrible ideas and scenarios that end with her dying and the loop starting all over again to present you with a special brand of hell.

“Come on, Kathryn.”

Then you hear it; a slight ricochet. A cough. You listen again. “Chakotay.”

“Is everything okay?”

There is some more coughing, a subtle groan and something that sounds like shuffling.

“I’m okay, Commander. I take it this wasn’t part of your plan?”

“No.”

“Any more predictions about what’s going to happen?”

You can imagine the arched eyebrow, the prim expression and the tight line of her mouth quirked on one side as she assesses you, even covered in dirt and grim. Clearly, the unpredicted tumble into a trap has done nothing to dampen her sarcasm.

“Have you got your phaser?”

“No.”

You glance around, and see the abandoned rifle just shy of the edge to her temporary prison. It must have been flung from her grasp when she plunged into the darkness. You make a mental note to avoid this area on the next reset.

“Do you want it?”

“No offence, Commander, but I’d rather not see what’s down here,” she comments dryly.

You smother a laugh. “Too bad.”

Moving over, you grab the discarded rifle and swing it down, aiming with precision to avoid misfiring and hitting the Captain. She takes it from you, and then sets it down against one of the walls, the damp earth now a little brighter with the light of the beam.

With relief, you can see that she hasn’t fallen far, but it’s too far for you to reach her alone. The rest of the crew are going to have to leave the cover of the tress. You crouch down, and flatten yourself on your stomach, edging closer to the precipice.

The monitor you carry sounds its shrill alarm. Once again, you’re running out of time.

You glance up, narrowing your eyes in the dim light to make out a distant glow of the device. It’s still active. You’re going to loop again.

And it’s going to be harder still.

Glancing down, you catch sight of her bruised, dirty and covered with tiny scraps and cuts. Her eyes are glassy with tears, and suddenly it clicks home that maybe she’s hit her head a little harder than she’s letting on. As you reach down toward her, your fingertips graze. The distance is too far, and you can’t reach her.

She’s always been just out of reach.

The desperate kiss you both shared only a few loops before has faded into anguished memories. A blinding flash of light reminds you that you’re out of time and you’re about to start over. It’s too late, precious seconds to make progress have been lost.

As you reset, the conference room materialising in front of you for another time, you think to yourself that this woman has nine lives.

* * *

 


	3. Fortune Favours

* * *

The flash of light ends and you’re back in the same place you’ve been every time the loop has reset - the briefing room, with its stark brightness and the planet orbiting twenty-thousand kilometres below.

She’s talking and about to utter the end of a sentence comprising a question that you weren’t listening to in the first place. If you remember correctly - because it’s been so long since you’ve started these loops – you were slightly distracted by her mouth and the way words fell from her lips to really comprehend what she was saying.

“… and why is it so surprising to you, Chakotay. It happens.”

You blink, and look at her. “I’m sorry, Captain. But we don’t have much time. It appears _Voyager_ is caught in a temporal loop and we need to act now before the loop rests and I have to start this all over again.”

She looks at you with a puzzled expression, and then sits back down at the head of the table. It is the same chain of events that’s happened every time you’ve reset, right down to the moment her fingers come up to touch the edge of her bottom lip as she contemplates what you’re saying.

She motions for you to continue, so you do. It’s a rehearsed speech that’s come out many times before.

_Too many times._

“There is an alien on the planet below who is activating a device. Somehow, this device is causing us to relive the same two hours. I don’t know how we got caught in this, but we have to shut it down,” you say. “He’s trying to drag the captain into his matrix, and he has _Voyager’s_ former crew members down there to ensure that he achieves his goal…”

You continue quickly, recounting the tale of how you got to this point and ignoring the slightly horrified expression on the captain’s face when you tell her that Cavit, Stadi and Ballard –amongst others –have come back from the dead. 

When you’re done – and it all comes out in a rush - Paris makes his standard quip about the ability to relive time.

“But, you could do anything Chakotay! You’d never have to worry about consequences!”

You glare at him, and the captain looks mildly amused.

“I’d show up to the bridge naked,” Paris jests, and you barely have a chance to scoff before Harry chips in.

“I’d definitely spend all my time on the holodeck!”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at his lack of imagination. Besides, you’ve heard this conversation countless times before.

“Maybe B’Elanna wouldn’t find me so disgusting after a hundred attempts to ask her out on a date,” Paris laughs, waggling his eyebrows in the direction of the chief engineer, who rolls her eyes.

“Keep dreaming, Paris.”

He fires back, quickly with a smile. “Maybe you’d engineer a munity, B’Elanna. See what it’s really like to sit in the big chair.”

“If you’re done, Paris?” you ask, although there is no humour in your words and the pilot looks a little taken aback at your aggressive tone. “We need to think of a way to defeat the alien, and get to the device without getting killed. We have less than two hours before the loop rests again, and each time it becomes harder and harder to get to it.”

Faces around the briefing table look at you uneasily. You probably stare like someone who is slightly crazed and shouting ridiculous orders, but time is of the essence here and you must get moving.

The captain clears her throat and stands up. The rest of the room follows suit. “We have a lot of work to do. Let’s get started.”

The senior staff file out one by one and before long, it’s just you and the captain again.

She looks up as you gaze in her direction and a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth.

“Tell me, Chakotay. What would you do, if you didn’t have…” she trails off, and all that’s missing are the words she doesn’t want to say.

_What would you do, if you didn’t have to save my life?_

“You’ve asked me this before, Kathryn.”

Her head lilts a little to the side. “I have?”

You chuckle, because despite the gravity of the situation you now face, her confusion is amusing.

“And?” she prompts. “What was your answer?”

You regard her a moment, bathed in the starlight and the brightness of the planet below. You smile softly, eyes never leaving hers and you shake your head, just a little. You shift faintly, taking her in because sometimes, in the chaos and turmoil of life on a starship stranded thousands of light years from home, you forget just how beautiful she is.

“I think you know the answer to that, Kathryn.”

A slow smile spreads across her face, and a pink tinge creeps up the pale skin of her neck. There are so many things you can say in this moment, because you don’t always want to have this tension between the two of you. It’s almost at the point of suffocation, but you don’t need it to get any worse with all the things you aren’t saying to each other.

If anything, over the past three years, she’s become a good friend and you don’t wish to lose that. But somehow, you can’t bear the thought of letting her go.

“Well?” she prompts again.

You take a step back from her, and head toward the door.

“Let’s just say that the second time, I didn’t start it,” you say. Her eyebrows raise in silent surprise, and a blush begins to creep up her neck.

Her feelings are written all over her face.

* * *

“Commander?” she prompts. “Something wrong?”

You’re standing just inside her doorway, unsure of what exactly you should say. The idea is fresh in your mind and you need to get it out now before you lose your nerve. You know how to end the loops, and the idea is so terrifying that you’ve followed her to her quarters before bringing the idea to the senior staff.

You know that’s what she does, before every away mission. It’s like a ritual for her, to leave the ring she wears around her neck next to the photo of them man who gave it to her. And so, you don’t even think when you find yourself heading in the direction of her quarters, rather than the transporter room.

“I’ve figured it out,” you say. “I know how to get past this.”

She steps a little bit out from her bedroom, fastening the zipper on her jacket. “I’m listening.”

“You have to die, and we are running out of time for it to happen.”

Blinking once, then twice, she watches you with a slightly bemused expression. “I see.”

You shuffle forward, until you’re inside her quarters and the door slides shut behind you. Your hands come up, placating the next sentence you’re about to utter even though it hurts you to voice what you’ve known for the last several loops.

“We have to trick the alien. He has to believe that you’re dead, and he’ll stop the loops.”

“That’s it?” she questions.

You shrug. Perhaps it sounds too simple. “Yes,” you offer. “He has indicated to me before that it’s you he wants. He wants to take you into his matrix,” you spit out the final sentence. You can’t even remember how many loops ago it was, but you’d been close to the device when the alien had come forward.

It had all made sense, early on. The alien was one being, and he was on control of everything. You’re growing tired with the way he messes with your mind, and his tricks are just another thing you have to avoid on each reset, along with the dead crew.

He’d appeared as your father first, begging, pleading you to let Janeway go. Slowly, with each passing loop, the alien had appeared as someone more sinister. First Sveta, then Seska. Eventually, he started appearing as people from Janeway’s world. Mark. Her Sister. You wonder what he looks like to the rest of your crew.

“We have to make him believe you’re dead, and that he has won.”

She doesn’t ask why you haven’t mentioned this before now, or why you didn’t bring it up at the briefing. You’re glad she doesn’t, because you wouldn’t have been able to tell her the truthful answer.

Though somehow, you suspect she already knows. Unspoken words have passed between you for so long.

_I love you._

You step forward again, with purpose, and stop a few inches from her. You can see the hesitation in her eyes, and the way she’s questioning you ever so slightly. It’s madness, you’ll give her that. But there is no other way this can work.

“If you’re sure…” she trails off.

Swallowing thickly, the word leaves your mouth before you have a chance to change your mind. “Yes.”

“Then we’d better get to the Doctor and brief the senior staff.”

You nod and go to step backwards but something causes you to hesitate just as she utters the next word.

“Wait.”

When you look at her, she’s staring directly back at you. She doesn’t avert her gaze like she normally would, but continues to look at you with lips slightly parted and you realise that this is nothing like the playful banter you normally have. It’s something quite intense and you don’t know what to make of it.

All you can do is stand there, feet frozen to the floor, because her eyes have always captivated you in a way you don’t quite understand. That’s why, when she steps forward and into your personal space, you don’t move. You’re not sure if it’s the prospect of ending her life willingly, or your playful teasing just before in the briefing room, but suddenly she’s close and tilting her beautiful lips up to meet yours.

Her fingers curl into the front of your jacket, pulling you closer still and your smart enough to take the hint. Pushing forward, you pin her frame to the wall behind, trapping her in the doorway to her bedroom.

You kiss her, then. Slowly, and perhaps a little bit tentatively at first. You’re holding back, unsure of how far you should go and unwilling to push her past something she isn’t ready for. It’s not like the last kiss you shared, where the heat of the battle made instincts and emotions run high.

But then, she opens her mouth under yours and takes the kiss deeper. Your hands slide down to her waist, holding tightly to the delicate curve and fingers digging in with probably too much force. You feel a whimper slip from her throat as your tongue traces along her bottom lip.

She arches up, pushing into you as the kisses turn hot and slack.

You break away, resting your forehead against hers and breathing hard.

“Kathryn,” you say. Your voice is low and deep, her name barely a whisper as it leaves your lips. A palm flattens against her lower back, the other still gripping her waist. Subtly, she shifts her hips toward you, rocking in a gentle rhythm until you grip her tighter and force her still.

“Kathryn, this is probably not the best time -” you take a deep breath as you think desperately for your next line. Her eyebrow arches, and she looks at you primly, waiting for you to dig yourself out of this hole.

You started this, turned up to her quarters insisting that you figured out how to stop this and she only had to die, which culminated in you kissing her against the doorframe. And now you’re trying to slow everything down, and back pedal in a way that doesn’t make you look like a giant ass.  

“You’re right,” she breathes, but doesn’t pull away from you.

Her voice is huskier than ever, and you can’t even imagine walking out the door now. She’s trembling slightly with anticipation, and your own muscles are feeling a little weak. It’s like you both know just how good you could be together. You don’t want to have expectations, but they are there. They’ve been there for months.

They’ve been there since you set foot on her bridge three years ago.

You lose your hesitation, bending down and kissing her with an intensity not yet experienced by either of you. You’re so close to letting this loop go. To taking a break and clearing your mind.  What is one loop off?

Only your brain is faster acting than the rest of you, and a picture of Cavit, and all the other former crew members appear in your mind. If you take this one off, there will be more of them to get by. More of _Voyager’s_ past will come to haunt you, and the more likelihood you both have of dying with each passing loop.

The alien won’t stop until you’ve ended his reign. And he won’t stop until you manage to shut down the device.

With great force, and a sigh, you step back and away from her with your hands falling to your sides.

“We need to get to the Doctor.”

You turn and leave her quarters quickly, before you have the chance to see if she follows you.

* * *

You explain your idea to the Doctor with the haste of someone who’s running out of time. Aside from the captain, no one knows about your ridiculous plan of ending her life to save her. For a hologram, he takes the premise of timeloops rather well. It’s something people are accustomed to in the 24th century – the eventually, one day you’re going to run into a temporal paradox.

Glossing over the finer details like the former crew of _Voyager_ trying to kill you both, you inform the Doctor about your plan to trick the alien. For the most part, he listens, and then gets to work straight away on a serum that will slow her heartrate and respiration to the point where she will appear clinically dead. It’s going to mimic stasis, but you’re on a time limit to bring her out of it.

You stand up from the biobed you’ve been sitting on and walk toward the corner of the room. You don’t need to hear this. You don’t _want_ to hear it.

The thought of her dying terrifies you. It’s what you’ve spent countless timeloops trying to avoid.

Paris bursts through the sickbay doors and draws your attention for a moment.

“Paris?”

He slows his pace, and casually shrugs with an air of arrogance. A hand comes up to brush through his hair and the blonde strands stand a little bit on edge that betrays just how fast he had been sprinting down the corridors. For someone who started this journey on the wrong side of the rule book, and the wrong side of Starfleet, he is surprisingly eager to save the life of the one person aboard who holds those principles to the highest standards.

It just goes to show how much he has grown to admire and respect her.

“The Doctor called me,” he says eventually.

“For what?”

The Doctor interjects loudly before you have the chance to hear his answer.

“I called the Lieutenant, Commander. I believe his skills will be required.”

You turn around, and head back toward the captain and Doctor, who are still fiddling with a few hyposprays.

“We come up with a plan, Chakotay,” she smiles softly at you, and your eyes never leave hers. You wonder if she’s remembering that kiss only minutes before in her quarters.

You defiantly still are.

“Just tell me what to do,” you grind out.

“I’m going to inject the Captain with a hypospray that will start to slow her vital functions. You’ve got about ten minutes from the time of injection until the effects are visible. At that moment, I’d suggest allowing the Captain to get caught in some crossfire, and really make it believable,” the Doctor grins.

You feel a slight bit of annoyance toward the hologram, as he announces proudly what concoction he’s put together that’s going to seemingly end her life. It’s like he’s planning one of his operas on the holodeck and it irks you. But, you forget that they haven’t lived through the loops, time and again.

They haven’t seen her so close to death, too many times in a row. If she does die, that’s it. The loops will end, and the games over. That’s your final goal – to finish this – but you are determined to do it with the captain still alive.

“That’s where I come in,” Paris adds. “I’m going to set my phaser to the lowest setting, but maximum dermal damage. I’ll fire at the right moment to make it look like the alien weapons have gotten her.”

You shift uncomfortably. The captain, for the most part, looks stoic and slightly bemused. You can feel the heat of her gaze every now and then.

“And then what, Doctor?”

He clears his throat, and hands a hypospray to Paris. It’s the drug that’s going to save her life. “You have exactly thirty minutes to revive her, or I am afraid that she won’t come back at all.” His voice is a little more subdued, a strong undertone of warning lining the words.

_Don’t screw this up Commander, or she’s gone for good._

“By my calculations, according to your information, you have less than an hour before this loop starts again, Commander. So, let’s get this show on the road,” the captain states. She tilts her head a little to the side as the hypospray comes up to her delicate neck.

Your heart is pounding, and you fight the urge to knock it from the Doctors hands. A hiss, a second and a breath and its done. You search her face for signs that it’s happening already, but she looks totally fine as she slides from the biobed.

Paris grabs a medkit and stashes it away in a bag you hadn’t noticed before. He’s ready for the mission, and looks confident but you can see behind those baby blues. You can see the same sense of trepidation that you’re feeling in your own bones.

This is it. You won’t have another chance now. If she dies, and you can’t save her, then the alien wins.

You thank the Doctor and go to head out the door. Paris and the captain are already out in the hall. The clock is ticking.

“Fortune favours the brave, Commander!”

You don’t take heed of the Doctor’s warning.

* * *

 


	4. Sweat The Battle

* * *

You beam down to the planet, right into the heat of the battle. There is weapons fire all around, and it’s like a nightmare playing right out in front of you. Through the yelling and the chaos, you feel an indescribable calm settle over you.

There is a numbness crawling through your veins and you can’t shake it. But you can’t slow down, and your mind begins to list all the things you need to do in order of importance, like checklists in a command structure.

The Doctor’s instructions are clear in your mind, and you wait with baited breath as Tom Paris aims his phaser right at her chest. She doesn’t blink, for the most part. And you wait in silence despite the disarray occurring all around.

The timing is crucial. The alien has to believe that he finally has Kathryn Janeway within his grasp. The medication is already coursing through her system, slowing her heartrate and her breathing. You can see this, even from your position, as her eyes become a little glassy and she starts to stumble.

Any moment now, and Tom will fire.

He just has to wait for the opportune moment.

It isn’t long, and Cavit spots the captain. He yells something, but you’re not sure what because it doesn’t sound like your language. These creatures, former members of the _Voyager_ crew, are still unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. You’re at the crucial point, where there are no more ghosts to come out of the matrix, and you don’t want to contemplate what happens next.

But even in this moment, in the heat of the battle, it begins to make sense to you. All these people that you’ve lost, that _Voyager_ has lost over the last three years, have been taken into the matrix of the alien. It’s how he survives. He ferries the dead to another existence. He feeds from what was once their conscious minds.

But from what you can see, it isn’t the type of existence you want.

Cavit takes aim, his alien weapon pointed at your captain and it’s then that Tom fires the phaser. It hits the mark, and she crumples within mere milliseconds. Cavit takes the bait, and yells in triumph. The weapons fire abruptly ceases as Stadi and Ballard move to the fallen figure.

The command red of her jacket stands out in the darkness. She’s pale, her uniform stained with blood and she is very, very dead. Paris finds his way to you, ducking for cover amongst the trees as Stadi picks up the captain. Beside you, Paris is staring with wide eyes and a horrified, stunned look. You understand his panic, and the way it swells in your stomach only to circle around.

He just fired the weapon that ended your captain’s life.

But now is not the time to dwell.

She will survive this.

She has to.

* * *

You follow the party carrying the captain with a stealth that has you briefly believe that you should have pursued a career in Section 31.

Tom’s voice crackles over the combadge – he’s a few meters to your left and creeping through the trees. His tone is rushed and slightly panicked, all sense of professionalism gone out the window.

“ _We are running out of time, Chakotay! How much further?”_

In the darkness, you glare at him. Although the former crew are hurrying along through the forest, focused on the one goal of taking Janeway to their master, you can’t risk being overheard. You can’t risk them finding you, and ending your final chance to save her.

You’re working to a strict time frame here. The captain only has thirty minutes before you won’t be able to revive her.

And the loop is going to reset in forty. You’re not sure what happens then, now that the alien has her within his grasp.

“Shut it, Paris.”

You’re still breathing hard when you make it to the edge of the tree line. Paris comes up next to you, and you know instinctively that the rest of the _Voyager_ crew are not far behind. Harry is almost ready to run to the device. B’Elanna is crouched behind a rocky outcrop, phaser aimed toward Stadi and Ballard.

They drop the captain onto the ground which such a thud that it makes you flinch. The alien comes out into the clearing. The device still glows in the background. He wants you to know that he has her, finally. And he isn’t letting her go.

One more moment, and you can make your move. Paris is ready, poised and waiting to strike.

The alien reaches out, a hand inches away from touching the captain and that’s it. You haven’t even started yelling orders yet, but Paris is already running and you’re not far behind. One by one, members of your crew start firing at the alien and those who were once their former comrades.

Hogan.

Suder.

Stadi.

Ballard.

Darwin.

Harry makes it to the device – _finally_ – and begins to work on shutting it down. You haven’t come this far to fail now. But the alien is still close to the captain, his hand mere centimetres away now as he tries to take her to his matrix.

“No!” you shout, and for a short moment in time, you draw the attention of the alien. He looks up at you, and the stare of blue eyes bore into yours. At first, the alien appeared to you as your father, petitioning to your guilt and coaxing you to let the captain go with him.

You didn’t believe it, not at first, and then each time the loop reset, the alien was someone new. Someone different, who appealed to your emotional lynchpin. At one point, he even appeared as Seska. But now, in the final hour, he appears as the man you recognise to be Justin. Ever since you learnt of his existence in the former life of your captain, ever since she showed you a picture of her the man she couldn’t save, you’ve been intrigued.

You needed to know what attracted her to _him_.

The first fiancé, and love of the woman who now lies dead on the ground. He’s appealing to you, saying words that you’re not really hearing as he tries to salvage the situation. You wonder if Justin was also taken by the alien, lured to a new existence inside the matrix as his body slowly sank beneath the ice on _Tau Ceti Prime._

“Let her go with me, Chakotay.”

“You can’t have her,” you shout above the wind whistling past your ears. You’re still at a dead-run. You fire the phaser, and at this distance, you’re amazed that your aim is rather true. Your arm is shaking, unsteady with the footfalls and hard breathing.

It strikes the alien in the shoulder, and he backs away from her ever so slightly as the beam impacts.

He seems to weigh up his options. The tall, imposing form of Justin is strange to look at. Not for the first time, you can see what it was about him that attracted Janeway. But, you remember, this isn’t really him. It’s an alien being who is trying to take her away.

The alien glances around and spies Harry over by the device which is now beginning to wither and shit down. The former crew members of _Voyager_ have begun to walk toward a yellow beam of light, and the world around you begins to disappear into the night as the alien struggles to keep a hold on this reality.

Your plan is working, and the device by Harry shuts off entirely.

“I’ll be back,” the alien shouts. “You can’t keep her from me. One day she will die by my hand!”

Shouting again, you aim your phaser and fire at the precise moment Paris fires as well. The combined beams strike directly into the chest of the being, and at this precise moment, you’re resigned to keep shooting until there is nothing left.

A few seconds later, and he’s howling in pain. Paris turns off his phaser, and reluctantly you follow suit as the alien backs away, turning ever so slightly to walk toward a yellow beam of light that looks like the matrix he’s spoken of. You stare for a fleeting moment, watching with slight horror as the alien and former comrades vanish into the matrix.

You don’t give him a second thought as you reach for the captain. Paris is by her side within seconds and the first thing he says is, “she’s not breathing!”

You resist the urge to point out he’s the master of the fucking obvious, but there is no time as Paris straightens her out and you support her head with shaking hands. You apply the cortical monitor that Paris flicks in your direction, and you notice the gash on her forehead. There’s no time to deal with that though, because Paris is checking her airway and you start trying to bring her back with the efficiency of a well-rehearsed team.

He injects her with the hypospray that the Doctor had provided in what feels like hours before. Your heart pounds loudly in your ears and Paris mutters something about needing more cortical stimulation to bring her back. Even though you know he’s doing all he can, there is an urge to shout and let the panic take over.

It feels like it’s taking too long.

If she dies now, the alien will still win. 

“Come on, Kathryn,” you whisper to yourself, your heart now somewhere uncomfortable in your throat.

Another hit from the cortical stimulator as the hypospray courses through her veins and she bolts upright suddenly, coughing and drawing in deep, ragged breaths. Her hand finds the muscles of your forearm, and she grips it tightly in a panic. You put a hand to the side of her face; a thumb absently strokes her cheek.

“You’re fine, Captain,” you breathe – more to yourself than her – and wild blue eyes lock onto yours as she calms.

You nod to Paris that she’s really alright, but he looks a little cautious but moves off anyway to start checking the area for any remaining hostiles.

“Easy, Captain.”

She reaches up, and touches her forehead gingerly. Her hand pulls away and she looks at the smear of blood smattering her pale fingers. “No wonder I have a headache.”

“Dying will do that to you.”

* * *

You can see the end, and the device shutting down with Harry at the controls. You know from the way its programmed that it’s going to send you all back to the start, and nobody is going to remember how many times you fought the battle to get here.

Nobody, except you. Because you’re never going to get the sight of her lying on the ground, pale and lifeless.  

Through the haze, you can see the rest of the crew emerging from the forest after they’ve inspected the area. You turn to speak to the captain when she suddenly shoves you down and you land onto the dirt just as the sound of a weapon impacts a tree somewhere above your head.

“I knew this was too good to be true,” you comment dryly, panting a little from the adrenaline still surging through your veins as you fumble for your phaser.

You’ve lost track of the number of loops now, but this was the last opportunity you had to reach the device, and you’d run so hard to get there. You’d fought against every wave of panic as you sprinted through the trees, Paris not far behind. Harry had finally been able to shut it down before you ran out of time.

You’d sacrificed so much.

There are more scratches on your skin from the dash through the forest, and tiny drips of blood from your exposed forearms disappear into the dark ground. Your phaser goes to fire quickly in the direction of the weapon, but the captain is laughing.

“Captain?” you huff out.

A combadge beeps.

“ _Sorry Captain, Commander!”_

Its Harry, and his voice is tinged with embarrassment. Apparently in his haste to finish with the device, he had a slight misfire with the phaser and the beam narrowly avoided hitting you fair in the chest. You make a mental note to never forget this moment, and you’re going to remind the ensign at every opportunity in the future.

The captain, crouched down beside you, is grinning with part humour, part adrenaline-high at just having shoved you in the dirt to save your life. She looks remarkably good for someone who was clinically dead fifteen minutes ago. “Think you got them all, Commander? Misfiring Ensigns excluded, of course.”

The sarcasm in her words is unnerving, and you hope to all hell that she’s right even though you can’t find the humour in the situation just yet. Even though you had been seriously outnumbered, endless repeats of the loops meant that you knew the layout of the land much better than they did.

Eventually, you made it to the device.

Eventually, the alien relaxed his guard.

It only took killing the captain. And that’s something you’re never going to forget.

You start to get to your knees, and hold out a hand for the her to follow. She grabs your outstretched limb with more force than you’re expecting, and momentarily, you’re pulled off balance and straight into her as she climbs to her feet. She looks up at you with a stark expression.

It’s the same expression she was wearing back when this all began, and the next words she utters are exactly the same ones you’ve heard before.

“In case I never have the chance to pay you back for saving my life.”

She grabs your uniform, clutching the material with a force that defies her size and kisses you. Hard. Suddenly, you don’t care who is watching because the device is going to shut down and you’re all going to go right back to the start. She’s going to forget this, like she’s forgotten all the other moments you’ve shared.

She’s going to forget that she died.  

But you won’t.

When she pulls back, you’re staring and even though she catches you, you don’t look away. Instead, a tiny laugh bubbles up inside and you shake your head at her.

“You’re crazy, woman.”

The combadge chirps to life, and Paris is yelling into it as he runs from the treeline.

_“All clear Commander! We did it.”_

The captain taps the badge on your chest before you can answer the hail. “Yes, we did Mister Paris.”

Even at this distance, you can see the relief on the medic’s face. You realise with a pang, that you are not the only one here who cares for the captain, or the only one who felt out of depth with that you had to face.

Moving her hand off your chest, the captain gives your hand a slight squeeze before letting it fall back to her side entirely. She smiles at you, and all you can do is grin back, before a blinding flash of light sends you right back to where you started.

* * *

 


	5. The Transition

* * *

You expect the dreams.

At first, that’s all they are. Just dreams. Not nightmares. Mostly, there is darkness and cold. She’s stumbling around, in a misty haze that emanates from the treeline trying to find her way out.

There is nothing overly terrifying about that.

About a week after the timeloop ended, and the alien retreated back into his matrix, the dreams change.

There’s a terrifying sense of urgency, and you can feel the shadows creeping up behind you at every turn. The captain is standing next to you, always, and you search around blindly trying to find a way out of the darkness.

That is, until Kathryn falls, the ghost of a scream following her. She disappears to nowhere, and you try so desperately to reach for her. You make to touch her, grabbing for her hands but you’re always too slow. Stumbling around, eventually you come across her lifeless body.

And that’s when you wake, gasping for breath.

Your hands are clutching at the thin sheets with a death grip, and you’re drenched in a cold sweat. Untangling yourself, you sit up slowly and swing your legs over the side. The carpet is harsh under your feet, and you try to bring your breathing back under control.

Briefly, you wonder if you’ve cried out and risk a glance at the combadge lying on the table. No sound comes, and you relax slightly.

You haven’t had a day off since the incident, and you’ve avoided going to sickbay at all costs. The captain has yet to order you to go, and for the moment you’re not letting her notice anything that might send you there – no matter how small.

You’re in no mood to talk to the Doctor.

You’ve told the captain that you’re fine. One day soon you might start to believe it.

Books no longer hold your interest, and you’ve never been one to sit in the bath and do nothing. Baths invoke certain feelings too; feelings that you’d rather keep buried.

Boxing has always been your strength. Your refuge. And your solace.

Maybe that’s what you need right now.

You nod to yourself in the pitch-black of your quarters, and with a sigh, you haul up off your bed and scratch around for your shorts.

You’ve survived the nights of the last few weeks mostly on coffee and late-night boxing more than sleep itself, careful not to run into Kathryn, or worse, Tom Paris, who always barrages you with a series of questions about the ability to re-live time.

You’ve not thought about it much.

The tantalising possibility to do whatever you want without any consequences never once occurred to you in all the times you were working to save her life.

On your way to the holodeck, you nod idly at the few crew who work the Gamma shift. The halls are otherwise mostly empty. The tug of fatigue is ever-present behind your eyelids. It’s not that you don’t want to sleep. It’s just that rest has a different sense to it when you make it through the night, without waking to the feeling that you’ve been fighting for your life.

Or someone else’s.

You run into Tom Paris just as you’re about to enter the program you’ve created for yourself. He’s way too cheery for this time of the morning and you dismiss his invitation for breakfast. It’s met with little resistance but you’re not looking the best and Paris passes by with a muttered “catch you later, Commander.”

The boxing program does little to sooth frazzled nerves.

Hands raw and bleeding, you have neglected gloves and wraps for the last several rounds. Your opponent always comes off worse, though. His resemblance to the alien is striking, and not for the first time, you check to ensure that the privacy lock is engaged.

If anyone found out that you’re grievously wounding an alien-look-alike that had been responsible for _her_ death, they’d ensure a one-way ticket to Sick Bay and you’re still in no mood to deal with the Doctor.

Eventually, you’re exhausted and your opponent lies unconscious at the corner of the ring. Rather than risk the corridors between the holodeck and your quarters, the showers in the gym are used and a fresh uniform ordered from the replicator. A little bit of trickery, and an old Maquis code wipes the memory from the database.

There’s no evidence of your deception.

* * *

In the end, you’re late to the bridge.

The captain enquires as to your well-being, and you insist that everything is fine. The lines of concern etching her features go unnoticed. Paris, uncharacteristically, does not turn around in his chair or offer a sarcastic remark.

You flash her a smile as you sit down. You’re fine, and mostly in the brightness of the bridge, you believe. For a moment, you think that maybe she can see through your smile, but then she quirks the corner of her mouth and turns back to the personal device she’s been reading.

Before long, there is a need to escape the stifling atmosphere of the bridge, and you make an excuse about padds piling up in your seldom-used office.

The work that has built up in just twenty-four hours are a distraction so long as you keep your mind busy. Status reports are approved one-by-one, but you’re not even sure what they say. Eventually, the account you’ve been dreading reaches the top of the pile.

A glance at the chronometer surprises you when its later than you realised. A thumb brushes over the corner of the small device that you don’t want to read. Not yet. Her deaths are still so clear in your mind, you don’t need to read about them to feel the horror climbing its way up your body.

Without a moment’s thought, you throw the padd down and march out of the office. Somehow, you end up at the mess hall full of crew members after finishing their shifts. They all smile, and wave you over. Your polite but forceful refusals to join them for dinner are met with small nods and what looks like understanding.

You know you aren’t looking your best, and you find a quiet table in a darkened corner and mostly out of sight.

Voices travel to you, and you listen quietly from your hiding place. You stay long enough that most of the crew has filtered past and are headed to their quarters for the night. Your own quarters are a place that you’re trying to avoid for the moment.

The crew chatter with a momentum they’ve perfected over time. Their conversations are easy, bantering about nothing and you can’t help that swell of jealously that rises in your throat when you recollect that they don’t remember the temporal loop. They didn’t re-live the same two hours for weeks – or was it months? – on end. 

They never saw _her_ die.

But, you did.

B’Elanna and Ayala give a small wave as they leave, their conversation barely pausing as they bicker about what is the best birthday present to give Naomi. You’re surprised that Flotter is still popular, and Ayala is adamant it’s what all the kids are into these days. You hear B’Elanna make some sarcastic remark, but you fail to catch it exactly as they fall out of earshot.

Tom and Harry stop in front of you. Paris makes some quip about being alone, and Harry mostly looks uncomfortable before offering an invitation to join them later in Sandrine’s for a game of pool.

Eventually, when the mess hall is empty and even Neelix has vanished for the night, you sigh and stand up, stretching limbs and muscles. The walk to your quarters is eerie in its silence, with only the dull thrum of _Voyager’s_ engines to fill the void.

You don’t see Kathryn – she doesn’t come to the mess hall - but then again you were never waiting for her to.

* * *

Back in your quarters, you don’t know what to do with yourself. The place is barren, and has that cold, hollow feeling that comes with living on a spaceship. It’s something you’ve experienced for years, ever since you abandoned home to chase ideals that no one else shared.

You contemplate the empty space for a moment, and then move to sit at your desk that’s hardly ever been used. Most of the work-related conferences have taken place in the Ready Room, or the Captain’s quarters and then you’re usually organised enough to have everything completed in your office before end of shift.  

Eventually, you open the lid to your computer and wait for the device to start up. A blank screen stares back at you. The second’s tick by and the emptiness in your quarters is overwhelming. You’ve had too many cups of tea for one day, but you can’t stomach anything else.

An hour passes you by and once again, the holodeck boxing program is the only thing that can soothe your troubled being. Somehow, it feels wrong to be sneaking through the corridors so late at night. But you’ve done it so often in the last few weeks that out of instinct, you know where every member of the crew might be.

That’s why, when you round a corner, you can help but startle at the sight of the person you’ve been trying to avoid walking toward you.

“You missed dinner,” she states.

You could offer excuses – you’ve got quite an arsenal of them now – but somehow you suspect she can see right through them. She had always been perceptive, picking up on subtle changes in mood or personality with any member of her crew, and then goes out of her way to make something right.

Sometimes, you forget that she isn’t always so armoured.

Lifting a shoulder, you shrug at her as she finally comes to rest in front of you.

She tilts her head, just a fraction, but doesn’t say anything more. She wears the same expression on her face that you’ve seen before, and she’s looking at you like you’re a mystery that she is so close to figuring out.

You find yourself growing tense as you wait for the inevitable question.

“Chakotay,” she begins. “Are you okay?”

It’s not any different to the kind of question B’Elanna had asked you a few days earlier, so you’re unsure if it’s the lateness of the hour, the lack of sleep or the simple fact that it’s the Captain asking and you’re standing in the middle of a deserted corridor in the middle of the night.

But, suddenly, your throat tightens and your heart is pounding so loud it’s a wonder that she can’t hear it. It’s an easy question. All you have to do is say yes and she’ll go away.

A moment’s hesitation clues her in, because she moves forward and rests a slender hand on the bronzed muscles of your forearm. Cool fingers slide down, and eventually find your own, much larger hand. She squeezes it gently, before tugging you in the general direction of your quarters.

You feel distressed, and vulnerable. And those are two sides of yourself that you’ve never wanted her to see. But it’s too late now. It’s way too late to hide any of it, and she’s probably been able to see it more times than you would be willing to admit.

The timeloops may have ended weeks ago, but your mind replays the moments of her death over and over with such clarity that you’re not even sure which are real anymore.

Kathryn sits next to you on the couch when you finally make to your quarters. Her hand still rests lightly on your thigh, and she relaxes back with a book in the other hand that you hadn’t even noticed she was holding.

She stays early into the hours of the next morning, shifting every now and then to relive the ache in her muscles that mirror your own. But, you can’t face the emptiness of the bedroom just yet. When the final page closes on her book, it gets dropped to the floor and she arches her back before settling against the couch and closing her eyes. A small sigh escapes as eyelashes flutter on her cheeks.

You don’t say anything to her about your dreams, and she doesn’t ask. Instead, you listen to the sound of her breathing, and eventually your own eyes feel heavy enough to close for just a moment.

Eventually, she’ll ask you the real reason behind what’s bothering you. Eventually, you might even be able to tell her.

But for the moment, she’s here, and that’s enough.

* * *

 


	6. And Soon Comes Clarity

** Epilogue: Coda. **

* * *

_You saw me mourning my love for you,_

_And touched my hand._

_I knew you loved me then. –_ ‘Taking Over Me’: Evanescence

* * *

The senior staff spend the majority of the next hour updating you on the events leading up to the gravimetric encounter and how they lost sight of the shuttle on sensors. You find yourself forcing a smile when Harry tells you how he came up with a way to send the Doctor and Tuvok down to the planet that avoided the intense storms.

You try not to dwell on the possibilities that result from the Doctor and Tuvok not making it in time to save her. It bears too much of a resemblance to the dreams you suffered from months ago.

To distract yourself, you think about Harry and you can’t help but remember that wide-eyed boy who looked too young to even bear the rank of Ensign. You’ve always liked Harry, and you briefly remember your first meeting on the Ocampan planet that feels like a lifetime ago.

When Tom finishes the joke about your piloting skills – that joke he’s been working on for hours – you force a laugh through unshed tears of anguish and then the mood in the room grows cold and sombre. Everyone can see through your façade.

People scurry off, bidding their “goodnights” and “see you laters” as they urge you to join them for a bit of dinner.

You decline.

The night watch rolls around, and you stay on the bridge. Neelix pops up, bringing coffee and armed with his arsenal of cheering up goodies. As expected, they fail.

Uncharacteristically, Neelix pats you on the shoulder, squeezing just a little.

“You’re no good to her if you’re too tired.”

You know he is right, but at this moment in time, the bridge is the only place for you because the second you step into that turbolift, you are going to head straight down to sickbay and stay by her side. The guilt has been eating at you for months.

You’ve thought so many times about telling her, temporal prime directive be damned. But, something always stops you. It would force you both to acknowledge that there is something between the two of you, and that’s a reality she can’t face just yet.

He bids you farewell, chiding softly one last time about the need to rest. It’s amazing how people always say that when they hand you a coffee intended to keep you awake for hours yet.

But, as Neelix’s cheery face disappears behind the lift doors, his façade falls a little and you realise not for the first time that every member of this crew is feeling this too.

* * *

When you enter through sickbay doors, her eyes are open, staring at you and you’re looking right back. You watch her silently, intrigued by the way she holds the cup so close to her lips. It’s something you’ve found fascinating over the past few weeks aboard _Voyager._ The bruises on her cheeks have not yet been dulled by the dermal regenerator.

Without thinking, you suddenly blurt out what is on your mind. “Do you always drink this much coffee?”

“Do you make a habit of advising your commanding officer about their drinking habits?” Her answer is quick and sharp. It takes you by surprise. The cup falls away from her mouth.

You have the good grace to ignore her remark, and you glance down toward the standard grey carpet. You can feel her eyes on you, but you say nothing as she undoubtedly raises the cup again to her lips.

“You’re awake,” you whisper shakily. It’s not the first time you’ve seen her so close to death, and it’s not the first time she has seen you so close to throwing it all away. Emotions have always run high between you two.

She smiles, and shrugs her shoulders with infuriating nonchalance. It’s way too cocky for someone who almost died a thousand times over by the hand of an alien intent on taking her away. And even though it irritates you, and causes you sleepless nights, that’s how she’s kept you all alive for three and a half years.

You feel yourself tremble a little as you step forward toward her bed. She struggles just slightly to sit up straighter, and you can see how much effort it takes her. You want to reach out to help her, but you hesitate because it’s so hard to do what comes so naturally without dangerously overstepping those boundaries you’ve both worked so hard to maintain.

She offers a watered-down version of the smile she treated you with before, and gently, your hand slides into hers.

At last you breathe.

The loop has finally ended. Once again, the alien hasn’t succeeded in drawing Kathryn Janeway into his Matrix.

For now.

She tells you about her fears, that maybe all the near-death experiences she’s heard about have been the result of an alien inhabitation. You bite your lip and look away, because you know if you agree with her - confirm her suspicions - the whole, awful truth is going to come out.

Sooner or later, you’re going to have to tell her that this wasn’t her first encounter with the alien. That months ago, you relived the same two hours for weeks before you realised that she’d have to cheat death in order to break free.

You’re going to have to tell her that you’ve spent every day of the last months looking over your shoulder and waiting for the alien to return. That you’ve kept a hypospray of the same drug the Doctor used to end her life hidden away because you knew that you’d have to use it again.

You’ve still been unable to form the words to tell her that in the heat of the moment, in the midst of a battle fought on a planet far from home, and in the darkness of her quarters minutes before she died, you shared a kiss – or three – that meant more to you than anything before.

You suspect she knows more than she lets on, though. She’s read your report, albeit a modified version that doesn’t violate the temporal prime directive and glosses over the details that are still so clear in your mind.

One day, when the parameters between you both are more defined, you’ll tell her.

You swallow thickly, and the image of her under your hands flashes in your mind. Heat crawls up your neck, arousal mixed with anxiety and the fear you’ve been harbouring for months.

“Something you want to tell me?” she asks.

You smile slightly. “Not yet.”

* * *

Hours later, under a holographic moon, your boat rocks quietly on the lake. She’s quiet, leaning back into your shoulder with a sense of familiarity that hurts deep inside. The champagne that cost a fortnight’s rations sits unopened on the shore.

Neither of you have been in the mood for celebrating, despite the earlier enthusiasm in her Ready Room. She’s been glancing at you out of the corner of her eye for the better part of the last hour, but, she has yet to tell you what’s on her mind.

You can guess, though, if her experience with the alien is anything like yours. Endless loops of death, and heartache. Of anxiety, and despair as you tried so desperately to breathe life back into her failing body.

Idly, you wonder how many times you can watch the person you love die, or try to save you, before it starts to affect your sanity.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask, and the vibrations of your voice echo throughout the stillness of the lake.

She shifts, ever so slightly, and a slender hand reaches out to find your own. Her fingers are cold, and they burn a little as the smooth over the rough skin on the back of your hand. She’s quiet a moment longer, and you’re just about to resign yourself to the fact that she’s not going to share what’s on her mind when she finally speaks.

“I saw you all,” she says, quietly.

You figure she can detect the subtle change in your breathing as your body tenses, for she continues quickly.

“You, at first, and then later Tuvok and the Doctor. When you were trying to save me on the planet.”

“Oh.”

The tightness in your chest is back. Visions flash through your mind like an old movie reel that Tom once showed you. You can hear your own voce, pleading with her not to die. Not to leave you behind.

And you don’t know what to say. For now, there is little doubt as to how you feel about this woman, and she knows it too. You still haven’t told her though, as you both sail on Lake George, that this isn’t the first time you’ve encountered the Alien. You don’t tell her that you recognised the symptoms, and that’s how the Doctor knew exactly what treatment to administer.

Confronting the reality behind the secret you carry is far worse. It means confronting the reality that you’re protecting her from the dangers in this universe. That you care for her a great deal more than you’re supposed to. And whilst you’ve lived with this knowledge for some time, she hasn’t. She’s not ready to let go of her past, and move forward.

So, for now, you’ll keep that secret and channel the guilt that eats away at you into boxing, and late-night holodeck programs.

The voice that you thought had gone is back and screaming at you that next time you might not be able to save her. That next time, she’s going to vanish into that abyss and there will be nothing you can do. But you push it away, and vow silently to yourself that you’ll do whatever it takes to protect her from the cosmos, and all evil beings within it. That no matter what, you won’t let her go.

She must sense the slight tension in your muscles, because suddenly she’s speaking again and her husky voice emanates clearly across the chilly lake. Instinctively, you draw yourself closer to her, huddled into your side.

“I know it wasn’t easy,” she offers. Her fingers keep drawing idle patterns on the back of your hand. “But, thank you.”

You look down to the way she’s curled back into your shoulder, and the subtle moonlight catches the angled lines of her jaw.

“For what?” you ask.

Her head tilts a little to the side, and she glances up at you through starling blue eyes and dark lashes. “For saving me.”

You swallow thickly, bringing your hand up to rest on the side of her face. Her skin is cool – a sign that you’ve both been out here too long – and the bones beneath your touch are delicate. You mean every syllable when you reply, and you channel everything you’re not allowed to say to her into the one word that you breathe.

“Always.”

* * *

 


End file.
